Uneasy Lies The Head
by AbsoLarryLutely
Summary: (AU) (Eventual Book Spoilers) Cersei's "little black-haired beauty" survived. How would the presence of a legitimate first born affect the Game of Thrones?


**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Some readers might recognise this chapter and this is because it's a re-write of an earlier story I uploaded. The original story lapsed into hiatus due to work, exams, etc. and during the re-read I managed to come up with several changes which I feel make the story better, hence the re-write.

The biggest change is the switch to POV chapters as I believe it gives a better insight into the character while maintaining mystery of what non POV characters are up too, which is one of the most enjoyable aspects of the ASOIAF novels. I have the first six chapters planned out and from there I have multiple directions I can take the story. A word of warning though, the first few chapters will be OC heavy as I want to set his backstory.

This story is rated M (it's based on Game of Thrones after all) and will contain adult language, violence and sexual content. Also, I own nothing.

The story is set just before series 1 of Game of Thrones and due to the AU nature some the ages have been changed slightly.

The Royal children - Tyland is 16, Joffrey is 13, Myrcella is 8 and Tommen is 6.

Enjoy reading!

* * *

**TYLAND I**

The Narrow Sea was pitch black in the dark hour before dawn as the Black Betha gently rose and fell on the waves. Tyland Baratheon stood alone on the foredeck, clutching his heavily faded crimson cloak tighter against the chill of the night air. His body was bulked by the padded gambeson he wore beneath his quilted leather jerkin and yet the wind still bit to the bone. He was now long used to the motion of ships and so felt no need to hold on to anything as he continued to stare out across the sea. He breathed deep, filling his lungs with the salty air as he stood there silently, listening to the rhythmic sound of waves against the hull, but to his mind the years had rolled away and he was back in King's Landing.

_Joffrey and Tyland were riding their ponies while practicing at a shortened quintain with lances specially fashioned for them. Resentful of being the younger of the two princes Joffrey always set out to prove that their age difference was no measure of skill._

_"Eight to me and five to you." Tyland proudly declared._

_"Six," Joffrey protested. "I got one on the last run."_

_"It fell off. Doesn't count."_

_"Yes it does!"_

_"I'm still winning," Tyland scoffed. He enjoyed rubbing Joffy's face in the fact that he was better with sword and lance. After all, he was named after Ser Tyland Lannister, the former master of ships to Viserys I._

_"This is stupid! I'd beat you at swords," Joffrey stated as if fact. "Uncle Jaime says I'm good," he hastily added as if that clinched the matter._

_Tyland glared at his brother, praise from Ser Jaime was highly sought after by both of them as neither got it from their father. Their mother had told them tales about the Lion of Lannister - how he won his first tourney when he was three-and-ten, how he was knighted at the age of five-and-ten and how he was the youngest ever knight raised to the Kingsguard. On the odd occasion the brothers were on good terms they would sneak into the White Sword Tower to watch their uncle practice his skills. They would watch in the shadows and try to emulate him._

_"He says I'm good too!" Tyland retorted._

_"He did not," Joffrey jumped from his pony and drew his wooden sword. "Come, or are you scared?"_

_Tyland had promised mother he wouldn't rise to Joffrey's goading but he always did, he enjoyed putting his brother in his place. He climbed down from his pony and drew his sword, knowing full well his extra growth would be enough to win._

_He lunged forward and Joffrey parried the blow. The younger brother tried to hold his ground but soon had to retreat under Tyland's relentless attack. Tyland continued to hammer his little brother mercilessly across the courtyard. With a flick, more luck than skill, Joffrey struck Tyland's hand. The blow stung and caused the crown prince to drop his sword._

_The black haired prince went for his fallen weapon but Joffrey got there first, kicking it away and levelled his sword at his brother's head._

_"I win!" Joffrey shouted with a smug grim and a puffed out chest. He withdrew his wooden blade and tucked it back into his belt. "Always said you belonged in the dirt," he laughed._

_Tyland's cheeks turned red, his eyes grew fierce and his nostrils flared till he resembled a lion. With a roar Tyland scrambled to his feet and was soon upon his brother in a blazing fury. They grappled and rolled blindly on the ground. Soon Tyland was flailing punches as Joffrey desperately attempted to shield himself._

_"Let me up," Joffrey demanded as he struggled._

_"Is that a whining plea, brother?" Tyland mocked._

_"I wasn't ready," Joffrey protested. "In a fair fight I would put you down."_

_"What is fairness? It's the strong who rule and the weak who submit." Tyland quoted their mother. "Now yield!"_

_"Never!"_

_"I will hurt you!" Tyland landed another punch._

_Blood flowed from Joffrey's nose, mingling with tears, "Yes . . . yes . . . stop, I yield."_

It had been a while since he had thought about those days. He felt uncomfortable remembering how much of a bully and a sore loser he was, his foul temper was always causing him trouble. It was true he had inherited the full quota of the mercurial temper Baratheon's were known for, he had never been able to control it, nor did he see any reason why he should as it seemed to have served his father and his uncle Stannis well enough in two rebellions.

As far as Joffrey was concerned Tyland didn't hate him, though he didn't love him no more than he had to. And a part of him suspected that Joffy felt the same about him. But deep down he knew there was something more to his relationship with his brother than indifference, to his shame he resented Joffrey.

The memories were a blur and fleeting, the kind where his mind had to strain to hold on to them and bring them into a sharper focus but nonetheless they remained with him. He could remember when his mother laughed and played with him, when she embraced him warmly and called him son. He could remember how on his name day his father would put him on his shoulders so he could watch the knights sheathed in decorative steel parade through the capital. In those days they were a happy family.

But that changed with Joffy's arrival. It was obvious his mother was fonder of Joffrey than she was of him and always took Joffy's side, even after he skinned Tommen's pets whereas his father seemed to lose all interest in his children. But the thing that infuriated him most was the decision that he should be sent to foster with his uncle Stannis while Joffy got to stay at home. They tried to lie about it, tried to convince him he was being sent to Dragonstone to learn how to govern but he knew the truth, that when it came down to deciding between him and his brother his parents chose to keep Joffrey. As much as it angered him at the time it also confused him, he was the heir to the Iron Throne. As far as his young mind could reason that alone meant Joffrey was the lesser child.

He could start to taste bile in his mouth so decided to push aside family and the past and instead focus on duty and the present. It had been nearly two hours since Ser Davos Seaworth and some of the crew had taken a rowing boat ashore. Tyland began to worry, not for his captain as he could look after himself. Dawn was fast approaching and unless Davos returned soon, they would lose the advantage of surprise. It dawned on Tyland that if the Onion Knight failed to return then the burden of command would fall to him and he knew for certain he was neither ready nor wanting of it.

Instinctively he glanced in the direction of the Whispers where the pirate galley would be at anchor and hopefully most of its crew asleep. It was rare for pirates to venture this far north of the Stepstones. Ser Davos had gone out to make sure the pirates had settled down before making their move. The crown prince knew it was highly likely he would have to fight his first skirmish and perversely that excited him. A small part of him hoped the pirates were awake and alert to their approach. He had wielded a sword in anger before, it was an intoxicating experience and he was sure it would be even more so in combat. Thoughts of potential maiming or death never entered his mind.

Baratheon's were warriors forged in battle, or at least that was what he was told. Stannis had made him commit stories of kin's valour to heart. How Orys slew the Storm King in single combat, how knight's opted for shame rather than fight Ser Lyonel, how his father won three battles in one day and how Stannis shattered the Iron Fleet.

"I will be as good as them," he muttered to himself.

Tyland sensed movement behind him and turned his head to see Matthos Seaworth ascend the steps.

"Cards when we get back, my lord?" Matthos asked, his dark green cloak fluttering slightly in the wind.

The squires and wards had set up a secret gaming table in their barracks and played incessantly until the small hours, gambling chores and what little coin they had. A night of cards and dice was one of the few reliefs of boredom available to them.

Tyland couldn't help but notice that Matthos seemed nervous and he could guess why. "Does your eastern god allow such vices?" the prince asked with a hint of a smile. He enjoyed baiting his friend over his new found religion. His aunt Selyse had hoped to convert him as well but Stannis forbade it, the king must keep the Faith or otherwise the realm might plunge back to the dark days when the Faith Militant took up arms against the Iron Throne.

Matthos shifted uncomfortably. "Still writing that lady?" he asked, dropping formalities while also hoping to change the subject away from his Lord of Light.

Tyland didn't answer. The letters were an extra chore he could do without, he didn't see the point in writing to some girl he had never met but his uncle Renly had insisted. The Lord of Storm's End wasn't as subtle with his intentions as he liked to believe, everyone knew Renly shared a close connection with the Tyrell's and lobbied for them at court. The prince knew Renly wished for him what his parents had, a political marriage. The thought was enough to make Tyland frown. Although his mother seldom spoke of her marriage when she did it was with sad eyes and he didn't want that for himself.

Realising he would receive no answer Matthos changed the subject again. "Any sign of my father?"

"Not yet."

"If he leaves it much longer then we'll have to call it off."

Tyland glanced over his shoulder at his uncle's squire with his droopy eye, a leaving present from Joffrey. "We cannot do that."

"Really?" Matthos sniffed. "Without the cover of night we risk losing more hands than we can afford."

_Fair point, _Tyland mused as he looked back out to sea. As Lord of Dragonstone Stannis was charged with guarding the Narrow Sea. However, the seemingly unending war against piracy and the sparse populations of Stannis' bannermen meant it was difficult to replenish their ranks. _But we have our duty, _as Stannis had often told him. His mother had taught him kings could do as they wished as they were the supreme ruler of Westeros. And watching his father do as he pleased simply confirmed what she had taught him. But years under Stannis's stern tutelage had taught him otherwise. With dawn approaching it would be reckless for a novice to lead an attack on a galley but if he did not then the pirates could slip away and he would have failed in his primary duty to protect the realm. "And if they attack Claw Isle?"

Matthos grudgingly accepted that. "What if something has happened?" He looked at the main deck to make sure no one overheard him. "Someone will have to take command."

"I will take his place, you know that."

Matthos knew that but it didn't seem to make him feel any better. "But Ty, the men will prefer to be led by someone with more experience."

Tyland would have been the first to admit that others on-board were vastly more experienced than him but whatever Matthos might think Tyland knew he had command. A prince did not take orders from sailors. He looked at Matthos, "Be that as it may," he said before looking back out to sea, "your father left me in command till he returns."

"If he doesn't?"

Tyland glanced at Matthos again and felt his jaw clench, feeling anger and dismay at being questioned by a squire whose primary duty was to act as a scribe. "He will," he said more firmly through gritted teeth. "Have the men prepare, we must be ready."

Matthos hesitated for a moment before returning to the main deck.

Tyland could hear his orders being relayed and a group of sailors going below deck to fetch lances, swords, bows and arrows. As the crew struggled into their gambesons and fumbled to string their bows in the darkness Tyland began to question his order. Normally the order to prepare would have been given closer to actual combat when they would have the benefit of torches or natural light but the prince had judged it would be better to distract the crew from the fact that their captain had yet to return. Besides, it gave him the opportunity to exercise his authority over Matthos.

_Maybe he's right? They would prefer someone with more experience, _he thought. He shook the thoughts from his head, experience didn't matter social standing did. That was something even his mother and Stannis agreed upon.

His ears pricked at the sound of a splash. All his worries about command vanished as he strained his eyes searching through the darkness for the cause of the noise, praying it wasn't a man overboard or something else equally time consuming. Then he saw it.

The small boat edged closer and relief coursed through Tyland. Davos climbed over the side as the prince descended to the main deck.

"Is the galley still there?" Matthos asked.

"She is," announced Davos. "They're sleeping like babes."

"Gods be praised," one of the crew said.

"Indeed," Davos nodded. "Is the ship ready?"

"Aye, ser." Tyland replied.

"And the men?"

"Aye, ser."

The Black Betha rounded the piece of land that had shielded them from the enemy. The pirate galley was visible as the faintest blue and orange began to light the morning sky.

"We're too late," Matthos whispered as he stood beside Tyland. "Dawn will be upon us before we reach them."

Tyland shared Matthos's doubts but didn't express them. He had heard about the Onion Knight's tactic before, they would approach from the west and use the limited light from the sunrise to conceal themselves until it was too late for the enemy.

The prince secured his open faced burgonet helmet and allowed himself a small chuckle at the cluster of grim expressions that surrounded him. Instead of being afraid he was deadly confident, Baratheon's were truly no good for anything but fighting.

Soon no man, squire nor cabin boy spoke, the only sound coming from the creak and splash of the oars.

As they moved within arrow distance of the enemy a blast of a horn carried across the water, their sentries had been alert and sounded the alarm.

"Battle speed!" Davos's voice carried across the deck.

A drum began to beat out a steady rhythm and the deck lurched as the oars sped up.

Tyland, having never experienced battle speed, nearly dropped his lance as he grabbed the side rail with both hands. He could feel his heart thundering in time with the drums and his stomach twist with nerves. Fear had clutched hold and he fought the urge to flee to the rear of the ship, putting as many people as possible between him and the enemy. As the Black Betha surged forward he silently prayed to the Seven that they would sink the enemy in one go and forego the fighting. The bravado of youth had truly been washed away by fear.

"Brace yourselves!" went the cry.

With a loud, shattering crack and a showering of wood the Black Betha rammed the enemy ship. Cries of terror rose from both crews.

"Grappling hooks!" went the cry.

Tyland scrambled to his feet, that order meant their attempt to sink the pirates with their ram had failed and they would have to board the enemy ship. With a deep breath he accepted he would have to fight his first battle.


End file.
